The Month After - The Legendary Pink Dots

Under the table and down in the pit with out plastic

Potatoes and Joe-Joe the dove on the spit.

On the

Spoons you made rhythm;

I whistled the blues cos

My throats been misused and my voice is a crack in The tar.

In the jar is a tablet they sent in the post,

With a pamphlet.

With an order;

«Take this when the

Pain gets too much!"I confess I feel nothing at all. ..

I’m bored and you’re bald, but I laughed when you

Called me the snail.

My red trail runs behind me.

I’m guilty, no secrets.

You’re not such a picture

Yourself--but your brown eyes I know so very well.

They’re sadder and wiser;

We’ve finally been

Through it all.

Now our time’s slowly ticking away.

Do you think there’s a heaven?